t some point in the far future, Mars has been thoroughly terraformed, its deserts replaced with greenery, various cities and towns dotting its continents. But mankind is nowhere to be found. Instead, in its place, large sentient felines stride about on two legs, dropping to all fours only when most relaxed. These great cats refer to the vanished humans as the Old Ones, and know only legends about them. Their own contemporary culture is rich and sufficient enough for them.
Part of that culture is, of course, politics, and that's what propels the story of Haydn of Mars, told in her own first-person narrative. Haydn is heir to the throne of Mars, legitimate queen of all the cats. But her father chose to dissolve the monarchy some years ago, in favor of a republic. So Haydn has very few duties, and seems destined for a life of indolence. But then Frane, a female rival, employing the resources of her clan, the F'rar, manages to disband the republic and place herself on the restored throne. Now Haydn's life is in danger. Now begins her real education.
She is smuggled out of the city of Wells by loyalists, but is captured by a gypsy band headed by a cat named Mighty. Using the pseudonym of "Ransom," Haydn masquerades as merely a rich city dweller and adapts to the gypsy life. Months pass, and she emerges a more hardened soul. Mighty no longer keeps her captive, but instead sends her with a trusted aide named Hermes to rendezvous with a secret faction that might help her.
Hermes is a reluctant traitor in pay of the F'rar, and Haydn is nearly assassinated. Yet in the end, she manages to meet with her intended new ally, Newton of the Science Guild. There she learns of the efforts of these technocrats to help the feline race, especially with the problem of their world's vanishing oxygen. After a lengthy sojourn among the Science Guild, Haydn is reunited with the loyalist army that intends to confront Frane. Haydn has become fit to be queen—but can she survive all the forces mounted against her?
A saga that's the cat's pajamas
It takes a heap of talent and vision to recreate the extinct pleasures of the past in such a way that they become truly alive once again, not merely stuffed dummies suitable for viewing only through a haze of nostalgia. A writer like Lin Carter tried for his whole career to achieve such a goal, for the most part instead producing only pastiches and hollow simulacra. Luckily for us, Al Sarrantonio possesses the flair, insight and talent that Carter did not, and thus he manages to gift us with a book that reads as if Edgar Rice Burroughs had been born in 1973 instead of 1873, and just begun writing today.
The mode Sarrantonio is working in is plainly that of A Princess of Mars (1917): otherplanetary "romances," in all senses of the word. This tradition flourished most brilliantly, perhaps, during the heyday of Planet Stories magazine, when such writers as Leigh Brackett, Ray Bradbury, Gardner Fox and Poul Anderson, among others, conceived of high adventures tinged both with sword-and-sorcery and SF elements. Lately, a few folks such as Paul McAuley, Liz Williams and R. Garcia y Robertson have done work in this vein. Now Sarrantonio joins them shoulder to shoulder with this fine tale.
Sarrantonio's cat culture is just weird enough beneath its surface similarities to our own to promote both easy identification and cognitive estrangement. For the most part, we empathize easily with all the motives and desires of his cats, until coming up short against something odd, like a female going into uncontrollable heat thanks to a stimulant. This blend of familiarity and novelty, just like Dejah Thoris' mammalian breasts combined with her egg-laying propensities, is the perfect hybrid of tropes.
Further carrying the narrative forward convincingly is immersion in Haydn's own distinctive voice and sensibilities. Narrated from her point of view, the tale instantly immerses the reader into her world. Major backstory elements don't intrude till a hundred or so pages into the narrative, by which time we're fully engaged. As for Haydn's maturation, Sarrantonio convinces us of the reality of her various testing and purging experiences, and we watch them change her convincingly at first-hand.
Sarrantonio's prose is nicely adapted to the job. There are no elaborate archaisms a la Gene Wolfe, or flood of neologisms a la McAuley. Instead, we enjoy simple yet graceful sentences, a sparse yet sturdy vocabulary, and taut, believable dialogue. In other words, ERB with the rough edges filed down and the bent girders straightened. Sarrantonio's plotting is deft as well. The timespan of the tale is a year or so, and one gets a real sense of time's passage. Yet no individual events are dragged out to boring lengths, as C.J. Cherryh is wont to do. This story rockets along, yet always seems intimate.
Dealing with eternal issues of duty and love, loyalty and sacrifice, intellectual thirst and love of one's homeland, Haydn of Mars is the cat's pajamas.
